


The road within - Sherlock Style

by Lilymaemoriarty



Category: Sherlock (TV), The Road Within (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Multi, OCD, Road Trip, anerexia, friendships, minor chracter death, self halm, tourette's
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2018-10-14 21:30:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10544648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilymaemoriarty/pseuds/Lilymaemoriarty
Summary: Sherlock is eighteen years old and with tourettes syndrome when his mother dies , his older brother Mycroft forces him to go to an experimental treatment centre , run by Mrs Hudson . There he meets roommate John who was severe OCD and PTSD and a boy named Jim , who suffers from anorexia . Together they embark upon a road trip in order to take Sherlock to the one place he wants his mothers ashes to be scattered .





	1. The funeral

“Praise be to the God, and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comforts, who comforts us through all our afflictions so that we can comfort those in any afflictions...” the priest solemnly read through Mycroft’s annoyingly religious passage. Sherlock tried to stay silent he really did. He bit down upon his lip, his snow-white skin turning pinker by the second. Funerals were supposed to be silent, everybody knew that, it was common curtesy to not say a word unless it was you speaking on the podium. However, Tourette’s wasn’t an easy condition to manage ...  
Sure, there was different types of medication and alternative healing therapies people could take to help with the tics, twitches, urges and outbursts, but none of these worked for Sherlock. So, he sat there, hands between his knees, in his brothers hand me down expensive business suit. His haystack of curls bounced as his shoulders jumped and face contoured, small twitches were spiralling down his body as he tried to hold in much bigger ones. He bit down harder until that familiar metallic taste filled his mouth. His ocean pool eyes had started leaking, the one day he wished he was normal, the one day he wanted to hold it together, he was struggling.   
The room which he was in – the chapel – held at a maximum twelve people, but his brother was still embarrassed. To Sherlock it was expected, Mycroft was basically the British government and he was merely a broken boy. The two young men were only five years apart but it felt like a lifetime. The Holmes brothers were sat on the same, wooden bench but a few empty spaces were between them. Mycroft wasn’t processing any emotion at all towards the death of his once treasured mother, it was surprising though. The man was a reptile!  
The priest was on about everybody coming together or something like that but Sherlock couldn’t concentrate, the urge to twitch was burning him up inside, he was a volcano about to erupt. “Shut up, you fucking paedophile!” Sherlock flooded with embarrassment, regretting the words the instant they escaped him. He winced at the harshness of his tone pushing his hands further into his knees, hoping he’d sink into the floor. Another twitch ran over him forcing his body to scrunch and shiver. His face glanced towards Mycroft *the perfect brother * and he saw the expression of embarrassment over his features. He carried on chewing his lips to shreds, eyes brimming with tears. His musician’s nails dug into the oak of the bench as he rocked himself needing some kind of control as another urge built. After the inevitable awkward silence because of his untimely outburst the priest continued to speak. Sad but sweet words about how she was always there for those that loved her. Sherlocks face scrunched and a piggish snort and whistle entered the quiet space when Sherlock heard his name. Quickly he shook his head, to blur the images and expressions spreading across the priest’s face. “Cunt licking fucking faggot!” An annoying tic then brought itself to the surface as Sherlock through his arms and legs out in a childlike motion. “You dye your hairy pubes ginger!” Sherlock gulped. Mycroft tugged his tie face turning beetroot, the funeral guests whispered remarks of anger and judgement and Sherlock felt like an outcast. He motioned for the priest to continue.  
His body abruptly jumped forward, whimpering like a mouse. Stares of judgement once again turned his way. He had to escape, he just couldn’t take it. Sherlock jumped to his feet, his arms curling and uncurling in awkward angles. He turned and thundered down the church columns to the door. His head shot to the left, his other shoulder hunched up and his right hand pressed to his chin – this particular tic hurt Sherlock like a bitch but by now he was used to it. “Fuck! Fucking fuckity fuck!” he shouted as he stumbled down the pathway. People gasped and murmured as he passed but he didn’t care he just had to get out of there.   
Three seconds (or eternities) later Sherlock was out of there. Away from the Judgement from his mother’s friends and acquaintances and not to mention his brother, he was free. Well from them anyway, twitches, tics and shouts were hijacking his body flying out of him like vomit. He was screaming now, all he wanted was one day of freedom, one day to mourn the only person that’d ever loved him. His size eleven boots kicked at random plants, like why did tulips have the right to be happy when his life had just been hit by a wrecking ball? . Sherlock flung his tall misbehaving body into a pair of fire engine red doors, to control his now shaking, grunting, body. HE slid to a seating position and hugged his knees, wallowing in his own self-hatred and pity. Suddenly Mycroft emerged his face, one of nightmares.  
“Get your shit together we are leaving, couldn’t even make it through your own mothers funeral pathetic!” he glowered. Sherlock wanted to protest, several Oscar worthy comebacks coming into his mind but his twitches were making it impossible to talk. Before he knew it, Sherlock was pulled into Mycroft’s absurdly expensive posh and being driven away …


	2. What happened to John Watson ?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How John ended up at the centre , before him and Sherlock meet ...

Dr Hudson’s-behavioural facility ; John read the title with increasing disgust - 11 vowels, one off the perfect amount , well nothing about where he was going was perfect . He didn’t want to go here . Nobody did . But his demons plagued him , constantly he counted to figures of twelve until he felt good , at peace with the world . But it was fucking irritating , like can you imagine constantly doing rituals , following an endless loop ?

His sister , Mary, pulled up in the cobbled drive her hazel eyes brimmed with worry . “ I’m sorry John but this is for the best ,I can’t deal with you repeating the same thing constantly , trapped within nightmares even when you’re awake , you need help !” She said , kindly enough but to John it just felt like poison in his ears .He Stepped out of the brown Volvo, and closed the door . Once . Twice . Three times . His mind still wasn’t satisfied . Animalistically he grunted , with frustrations , was it ever enough ! John repeated the action another nine times , eyes clouding with anger as Mary’s sympathetic features became etched within his brain . 

John began walking towards the bright blue door , he counted the squares on the pavement, careful not to step on any cracks ; or else what happened in the past may reoccur . He physically shuddered , sweat began to glisten his milky white forehead as he thought of that memory . He gulped the thoughts back down or else a flashback may happen and he really didn’t need that . 

A smallish woman , around sixty years old answered the door , with a pretty purple dress on . “Hello there I’m Dr Hudson , the one to see through you’re time here , would you please follow me to my office “ She politely asked him in a quaint but professional tone. John nodded . Three times seemed the correct amount to then. He went to close the door behind him . The voice within his mind began to force him again . Twelve times he did it . Twelve times , the perfect number , except it wasn’t ...

Dr Hudson lead him into her office . Thankfully her items were arranged in straight lines and no dust clouded the room . She motioned for him to sit upon the black leather sofa in the room . John did so , with a quick inspection for dust , because that could cause illness . He knew that . He’d always known that . He sat upon the sofa near the edge , as Dr Hudson pulled up a black chair , around sixty inches from where he was . “ Hello can you please tell me why you think you are here John , I’ve spoken to Mary before you arrived but I’d like to hear your side of the story “ She spoke reassuringly.  
John opened his cherry lips for the first time since his arrival . He cleared his throat . “ Hi , um I’m John Watson , I’m here becuase Mary made me but um i suffer from PTSD and Ocd , Ocd , Ocd” - not now he thought . “ I suffer from Ocd “ he repeated . Not good enough the voice told him . “ I have Ocd” . John cleared his throat three times . “ I have Ocd , I have Ocd , I have Ocd” . The voice vanished . Dr Hudson smiles sadly at him , and made a note in her notebook . Was she mocking him ?

“Don’t feel sorry for me , I can control it”  
He said angrily; the last thing John Watson needed was pity . “ I’m not John , i promise but I think you need to figure out how to better control your illness” She said . A faint smile tugged upon John’s lips - “ That would be nice , nice nice “ . Three times worked ; better . Dr Hudson smiled , her approach had worked , she had a new patient .

“Ok , follow me I’ll lead you to your room , you shall be sharing with two other boys as the facility is quite full at the moment “ She said , leading him out of the room . John had to open and close the door twelve times before he could even speak - his Ocd was really acting up. “ Are they clean ? becuase I can’t have mess , I can’t have mess .... I can’t deal with mess !” He spoke suddenly nervous as a mouse being chased by a cat . 

“ I assure you I shall speak to them before they arrive . However it is up to you whether you all get along “ She replied . They walked up fifty sparkling stairs , John counted each one just to make sure it was right . 

The two of them arrived at a room at the end of an everlasting corridor. Dr Hudson passed John a silver key , making sure her hands didn’t touch his . “This is where I leave you , John I’ll be back when the others return “. John thanked her , and entered his new abode , twelve times . 

The room was white , but not white enough , he grunted and entered the rooms bathroom . Under the sink he noticed a bottle of bleach . Drink it ; his mind murmured . “No! “ John shouted aloud , there were some compulsions he just wouldn’t do . But then his eyes reviewed his new room , complete with two wardrobes and three single beds . It wasn’t clean. John gazed down upon the bleach within his hands and grabbed a towel . He calculated that he had at least an hour before his roommates arrived . An hour to make sure everything was just right . 

This was going to be a long afternoon ..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ehhh I tried :)


	3. Dead is the sexy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moriarty arrives

An eternal pit of sorrow and pain was how young Jim moriarty viewed the world . He just wasn't interested in being alive , never was . He was tainted good for nothing and his figure was atrocious : pounds  upon pounds of invisible fat covered him yet he could see them , unlike everyone else . They made him mad . They made him rage . They made him stop consuming the fuel he needed to survive . 

So as his brother's car pulled him up towards the facility , Jim didn't care he just gazed down upon the wonderful scars etched onto his skin like drawings on a chalk bored . This wasn't going to help his sick mind it was just going to be an adventure !   
.............................................................  
Richard was bringing his little brother to doctor rose after he almost died , after he had found Jim's quivering skeletal body on his bathroom floor , wrists slashed like he was in some sort of horror flick . It pained him to see Jim's undernourished bleeding body but it pained Richard more as he saw the everlasting grin on his brothers face as unconsciousness took him prisoner and he thought he was dead . Although he didn't see Richard sobbing whilst ringing for help   
Three weeks later it was when Jim was declared healthy enough to exit the hospital but Richard had sent him here to doctor hudson which merely flew past him ruined skull .  
................................................................  
So when Richard hugged Jim's Startlingly fragile frame and left him in the company with doctor Hudson Jim's facial features barely even moved out of the blank expression that had been frozen upon him after he realised his suicidal plan had failed .  
Jim didn't acknowledge dr Hudson , so she showed him to his room which apparently withheld another patient already - his roommate . Jim smiled when she said this - now him jimmy would talk too - he liked amusing himself by centring the spotlight on others .


	4. The skeleton and the clean freak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and moriarty meet

As Jim entered the pristinely white room the stench of bleach knocked him back , bewildering his shattered senses like an earthquake . He saw a smaller male in the eastern corner scrubbing furiously at the plastic windowsill , like his life depended upon it .   
Jim cleared his throat , rubbing his bony hands together to try and warm their constant coldness .   
John whipped around looked at the intruder that stood in his finally clean room . The intruder was wearing a black t shirt and scars ran down his arms , ruining his milky white skin , he was obviously in no rush to hide his problems . Black skinny jeans hung loosely off his stick thin frame as his coal coloured eyes travelled over johns gloves fingers and entire body from .   
"Hi my names jim moriarty and I'm guess I'm staying with you ? " the intruder spoke in an Irish accent .  
John gulped as Jim plopped his slender frame upon the single bed next to his own , without taking his befouled shoes off . Trying to ignore the voice screaming at him to do something John perched upon his own bed and opened his cherry red mouth . " um hello Jim I'm John Watson , John Watson , j-(John stopped himself from repeating himself again as if by magic and a slight smile formed upon him ) , and yes you seem to be " . Jim laughed and subconsciously itched a little at one of of the barely healed over cuts on his right forearm . John looked away slightly feeling like he himself was the intruder in that situation. Whilst looking away John glanced at Jim's shoes again , the voice bubbling inside of him . " Jim can you take your shoes off , and put them away , they're dirty , they're dirty , they're dirty...." John kept repeated as Jim looked flabbergasted and confused - he slightly wanted to watch and see johns OCD show to amuse his sadistic nature . But after Johns eyes began to water as he repeated the words for the fifteenth time Jim snapped out of his trance of excitement and took his shoes off and neatly stacked them under his bed .   
John noticed Jim's action and smiled slightly sadly as he still repeated the continuous words another five times until the voice in his head settled down . " woah darling are you ok what happened there ?" Jim asked , more interested than worried , as his turned on his Irish charm . "OCD " john  
Muttered his face an alarming shade of red embarrassment . Jim smirked with a hint of pity and asked the troubled obsessive the one question on his mind " isn't there supposed to be another roommate here ?"


	5. The final piece

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock arrives and meets the boys

After  Mycroft yelled at him in his reptilian voice that Sherlock was being sent to an experimental treatment ; Sherlock felt like thrown out rubbish that just because of his condition he wasn’t worth anything .   
Three hours after the news was sent to him Mycroft’s husband Lestrade (Sherlock just couldn’t be arsed to remember his overly ordinary first name but he was pretty sure it was Gareth ) was waving their silver Audi goodbye . Sherlock tolled his eyes and painfully cracked his neck as the urge grabbed ahold of him . He gazed at the everlasting green country fields out of the window . This was going to be a long journey .  
..................................................,.........  
Mycroft went in with him into dr Hudson’s office the second they got there , yet obviously he was more distracted by his phone . Typical couldn’t the British government just listen for one second . Sherlock tried to concentrate upon her quaint voice as twitches began hijacking his body once again . He hummed like a baby cat painfully pulling his neck . His thoughts spiralled as she really did try to concentrate but when the twitches took ahold of him , Sherlock began imagining how different his life would be if his mother never began to poison her body . Morbid thoughts aside , Sherlock missed his mother with all his heart .   
Grasping back onto the strings of reality Sherlock felt dr Hudson’s prescience suddenly beside him asking him questions which bewildered his shocked mind . Sherlock answered the best he could , but he was mainly focusing on suppressing the beast that constantly lived inside his subconscious. “ Amy whine-house sucks my cock !” He suddenly ticked out of nowhere . His sharp cheekbones suddenly changed to an alarming shade of red . Dr Hudson smiled “what would you do if you could better control your ticks ?” She asked kindly . Sherlock thought he couldn’t imagine a life where he could . “ Um finish college ?” He murmured realising he never had even been able to do that . Mrs Hudson smiled and decided that Sherlock was the perfect patient .Sherlock just went along with whatever she said and decided he might as well stay and went to tell Mycroft his goodbyes

. A saddened look upon his face as his own brother winced as he ticked upon him whilst hugging him goodbye ( his leg jumping up and a whistling noise leaping from his mouth ) . “Christmas?” Mycroft announced . Sherlock repeated and walked back into the centre .  
...........................................................  
Sherlock was led up the harsh silver metal stairs towards his new room as Dr Hudson described details of where he was staying . Sherlock just nodded and occasionally ticked random nonsense, constantly embarrassed by his unwilling outbursts . “ wait I forgot do you have a phone ?” Dr Hudson asked him . “ yes I do !” He ticked , his voice higher than usual “No no I don’t “ Sherlock quickly said . He looked towards the small woman hoping she’d understand that it was merely a tic . She apparently did , judging from her smile and posture , “ good because they are forbidden” she continued. Then the two walked in silence until they reached his new abode .   
..............................................................  
Sherlock entered on his own he didn’t really want Dr Hudson announcing him , he wasn’t really sure why , but this way he felt more comfortable. Sherlock entered the pristine room , his violins fingers hidden under the cuffs of his grey trench-coat . Two men around his age were talking upon white beds . The room just felt clinical , especially with the stench of bleach . He cleared his throat ,surprised his tics were staying at bay , the two young men turned around and looked at their final roommate.” Hello I’m Sherlock “ he announced almost timidly . 

Moriarty smirked at the new arrival his beady black eyes judging his smart clothing and uncomfortable posture as Sherlock sat upon the final bed . The final piece for his forced holiday .  
John walked towards Sherlock , weary , the gloves upon his hands awkward and an awful first impression , but he just couldn’t become contaminated.   
“Why are you here ?” John stated abruptly , but he needed to know why this adorable curly haired man was in a place like this .   
Sherlock cleared his throat , feeling his tics begin to emerge like wasps from their nests . “ sorry?” He asked the blonde boy . “ WHY ARE YOU HERE?” John asked again , making sure he was speaking clearly. Sherlock began to answer but before he could the wasps flew out . “ Dwarf fucker , dwarf fucker !! Clean freak , clean freak !” He shouted yanking upon his curls at the same time like a child . His fingers curled into two as he physically swore at the poor boy , whilst shouting .   
Angered and feeling cornered , John stormed from the room , the words stabbing into his heart like tiny daggers . He grasped the brass door handle and opened the door to storm out . But the ever present voice in his hand forced him to remain with the still shouting man until he opens and closed the door twelve times . When John left and waited exactly twelve seconds he emerged into the room for barely a second and shouted “ and for the record I’m 5’6 not a dwarf “ and exited again .   
After the blonde man was actually gone moriarty looked upon the finally silent sad looking man upon the bed and looked at the door , and just laughed . He couldn’t help himself the spectacle that had just occurred was the most amusing sight he had seen in years . ‘Maybe this place wasn’t going to be so bad ‘ he thought to himself.   
Sherlock glared upon the skinny boy who was laughing , was his condition really that funny ? “ I’m sorry but man you’ve just cheered up the clinically depressed “ Moriarty spluttered through his giggles . And that statement from the skeletal Irish boy made Sherlock laugh too ; ever so slightly .


	6. Bonding with pain

It was around twelve am when Sherlock was unpacking his bag , whilst Jim was in the rooms bathroom .

Jim was stood  upon the sparkling white tiled floor , as he stared down at his scared arms ; without expression upon his Snow White face . A contraband razor blade was in his shaking fingers . Although his first day at the centre wasn't going to bad , his urge to cut was stronger than ever , as his stomach growled painfully . He smiled at the pain , it meant he was losing weight he thought happily . Yet he just wanted to hurt , he knew his time in the centre was only going to end up horribly . He pulled his black shirt above his shoulder so he could cut as high up on his arm as he could ( that way no pesky workers could comment upon it ) and sliced three identical grooves into his spoiled skin . Lovely luxurious blood spilled down his arm as he heard Sherlock tic quietly from the bedroom near him . Shit , Dr Hudson had called him an hour ago and told him to go to lunch with his new roommate , since John had ran off somewhere . Jim wiped the fresh blood off his arm and pulled his black shirt over his fresh cuts and entered the bedroom .   
Sherlock was placing a circular tin underneath his firm mattress as Jim entered the room his face , a blank canvas . “ If that’s alcohol or drugs be careful where you put that “ Jim said in his sing song voice . Sherlock laughed sweetly “ No no no it’s not that “ . His face slightly scrunching up with a facial tic . Jim smiled and informed his taller curly haired roommate about their lunch date . Sherlock laughed and headed towards the door with Jim in tow . At that precise moment John returned into the room , eyes slightly bloodshot and features tense . “ Alright clean freak ?” Jim smirked , feeling more himself after he cut . John’s heart stung a little more as the words cut him , but then his fucked up mind thought of a perfect comeback . “ Have you been eating more Jim? Your arse looks fat ?” He sassily said . Then the horrified look crossed across Jim’s skinny face as He stared down at his overly thin body and quickly exited the room , crossing past Sherlock’s halted body . Sherlock gave John a look that said it all , as he then too followed Jim . “Stupid !” John screamed to himself , then the voice within his head willed him to continue and for once he didn’t fight it as he began repeating it for at least twenty times .   
..............................................................  
Jim lead Jake over an isolated little bridge that overlooked a tortured looking play park .” I guess this is where the depressants and suicidals hang “ Jim smirked to himself , completely blocking from himself that he was basically describing himself . Sherlock was about to answer then an overwhelming volcano of tics washed over his body . “CUNT!” He basically shouted . “Excuse me ?” Questioned Jim practically forgetting about his roommates Tourette’s . “ SUCK MY DICK !, sorry sorry it’s in Tourette’s “ he ticked then quickly apologised to the smaller man . “ you’re like a parrot “ Jim laughed without thinking , Sherlock just cracked him up , but maybe it was because what he ticked was something he’d actually consider .   
The two passed the rest of the centre absentmindedly discussing anything but the reasons they had been sent to Dr Hudson’s centre . That was just something they wasn’t comfortable with just yet .   
They reached the cafeteria when Jim piped up “ And finally the sweet smell of gourmet shit “ he sang . Even the smell of food was making him nauseous he was looking fat apparently and he just couldn’t eat . He couldn’t . He wouldn’t !   
Sherlock laughed , completely unaware of Jim’s subconscious thoughts . The small Irish man gazed into Sherlock’s ocean waves of eyes as a tic took ahold of his body out of nowhere and his arm flew out and grabbed the top of Jim’s arm . Jim yelped in pain Like a puppy that had just had its tail stood on , as Sherlock’s delicate fingers grasped upon his still bloody cuts . “ HAH FATTY” Sherlock ticked again , absolutely mortified that he was verbally and physically abusing the poor man . “ oh my god I’m so sorry !” He gushed as Jim stared down upon his non existent stomach .   
“It’s ok , I just don’t feel in the mood for lunch anymore “ Jim murmured and walked away from the taller man clutching himself the voices within his head chanting Sherlock’s words around and around in a circle . Jim scurried off to the nearest bathroom leaving Sherlock alone and embarrassed .

Jim flew in the first stall , remembering the 2500 kcal meal , Richard had forced him to eat before he entered Dr Hudson’s care , and pictured all the food swelling up his stomach . He stuck his middle two fingers down the back of his throat , feeling the already destroyed and tender muscle around that area and felt the lovely liquid begin to emerge.   
It took Sherlock rather too long to realise where Jim had ran off too , and ran towards the nearest bathroom as soon as reality hit him . The sound of vomiting hit him as soon as he entered the baby blue bathroom . The stench of death followed . Sherlock stood silently outside the door trying to fighter out what to say to the poor anorexic boy , he had offended. Jim gasped for a minute emerging from the cold toilet bowl , after throwing up most of the contents of his constricted stomach . He then shoved his skeletal fingers into his throat again , still feeling as bloated as ever . Jim heaved nothing coming up . Sherlock rapped his fingers upon the turquoise door , needing to intervene before the poor boy caused himself serious damage. “ Jim , I’m sorry can you come out here , please stop - he paused to tic a weird squeaky noise - please stop doing that your so skinny honestly it was only a tic “ he said considerately . Jim lifted his heavy head and red rimmed eyes and slightly smiled at the taller boys words . Maybe , just maybe he was a person to trust . Jim unlocked the door -disheveled hair and face flushed - and smiled at Sherlock . The depressed anorexic smiled again , for the second time that day because of the curly haired stranger .


	7. Vomit and soap

When Jim emerged , looking rough , from the toilet stall , the sympathetic look upon Sherlock's face was enoughI’m for his black eyes to brim with tears . "Hey it's ok , come here " Sherlock said feeling oddly comfortable with the Irish lad hugging him . Jim wrapped himself within the taller boys arms and sobbed into his grey coat , barely caring about his appearance. Sherlock held in a gasp , as he felt Jim's sharp ribs dig into his suntanned six pack , and Jim's skeletal hips jut into him . Jim's tears began to stain upon the cloth after around three minutes . Jim began to move suddenly aware that he was crying into a complete stranger , but at that exact moment a tick seized Sherlock , making his body shudder , a vocal squeak jump out of him and his leg jolt backwards .   
Sherlock freaked what is Jim was to react like his own brother . He jumped backwards scared of what the Irish boy was to say . Jim stood a metre away from Sherlock and just smiled . " Stop panicking cracker boy , and thank you " he smirked , washing his face in the nearest sink . Sherlock smiled 'what a random nickname' he thought to himself . Sherlock shoulder jumped as he admired the Irish boy in the graffitied mirror above the sink . Jim noticed Sherlock's eyes gazing upon him and his heart flutter within his chest . "Come on then , let's go see what mr clean is up too " he laughed . The two young men opened the door ready to forget the past events -if they could . Unsuspectedly , they walked straight into Dr Hudson and a burly looking mn with a grisly disappointed look upon his face . Dr Hudson stared straight into the two boys eyes , as they looking guilty and confused. " Jim you are aware our facilities are monitored by cameras to assure your safety ?" Dr Hudson said eyes not leaving Jim's face . Jim's. Face set into its accustomed mask but his skin turned deathly pale . He shrugged . Sherlock noticed the sweat beads beginning to form again upon the Irish mans head . Suddenly he ticked "NAZI OFFICERS!" out of nowhere directing Dr Hudson's attention towards him . "Sherlock you can go I have to talk to Jim about his little stunt just now in the bathroom " She said ushering him away . Jim flashed Sherlock an adorably sad smile as he started to walk back to their room As  Dr Hudson started to lead Jim away .  
...............................................................  
Screaming and shouts could be heard from the end of the hall way as Sherlock made his way to the door of his room . "I saw you putting the bottle in John!" A female workers voice shouted as Sherlock entered the pristine room . The worker was black with a button nose and curls in her hair net . She was a nurse's uniform and smiled at Sherlock as he awkwardly stuck both his middle fingers up at her with a tic . Within one of her gloved hands she held a bottle of vodka , she touched the smaller boy as he went to grab the vodka from her hand .   
John screamed his OCD going mental , the woman had contaminated him . He sped to the bathroom throughly washing the germs from his hands .  
The woman looked after John and sighed - Sherlock deducted she was obviously new to her job due to how she was handling the situation . " Is this yours ?" She asked tiredly pointing the bottle at Sherlock . Sherlock gasped and looked shocked . He denied the allegations immediately . " Thats what I thought ... John you're having roommates whether you like it or not !" She slightly shouted and left the room . "HAHA" He ticked in response to the woman's shouting . Sherlock sighed and sat on the bed as a wave of tics began to surface . " I don't know why your laughing this is all your fault " John yelled at him , re-entering the room . " what did I do ?" Sherlock Questioned angrily , he couldn't help what he had ticked earlier after all . Sherlock started ticking aggressively unaware of what exactly he was saying and doing but feeling his neck cramp up with repetitive actions . A waterfall  of abusive was streaming from  Johns mouth , probably in response to whatever Sherlock was doing .   
Sherlock's mind clouded over , anger swarming his head like bees as his tics were taking control of the situation , instead of himself . The man in the long grey coat did the one and only thing he could do , so Sherlock does to the rooms ensuite and shoved his head under a tap streaming water to try and stop himself from ticking anymore obscenity's .   
John glanced down upon his hands and  jumped back in shock . He hadn't washed every single part of soap of his hands before he stormed in on his unneeded roommate . "You have to let me in there I still have soap on my hands !" He shouted pleadingly , His OCD getting progressively worse minute by minute . Managing to hold back his tics for a few seconds Sherlock screamed “Tough!” Back at the man who was probably the cause of his episode .   
John began screaming his OCD on a rampage , the voice inside his head melting away his sanity . “ You can’t go to the bathroom in there you have to go down the hall!” He shouted as he heard the sound of running water from the bathroom in front of him . He rapped upon the door twelve times trying to contain himself somehow , still angrily shouting .  
Tics still exploding from him , Sherlock was getting mad .Why couldn’t John understand that he had to regain control of himself alone ? Suddenly a marvellous idea entered his head , he knew it was wrong to play on his roommates OCD but desperate times caused desperate measures . Sherlock began to blow raspberries upon his forearm so John would think he was contaminating the bathroom .   
John panicked even more so , physically shaking and tears pricking his eyes . A tragic gasp flowed from his mouth as he sped from the room , desperately trying to get to the nearest bathroom as fast as he could .   
Sherlock’s mind clouded with doubt at his actions yet relief washed over him as he finally could calm his mind .   
Alone at last he thought , yet an Irish accent was ringing silently within his head .


	8. Hot dogs and spit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner time !

Around an hour after lunch at the centre was meant to begin , Sherlock entered the canteen . He stared around the happily painted yellow walls that mocked him as if they were showing him that he was meant to be as joyful as them . A combination of smells filled the rather large canteen - which held space for up to fifty patients - but the stench of French fries overpowered them all .   
Sherlock noticed Jim straight away he was squared away from most of the other patients , placed next to a fifteen year old girl on a feeding tube and a heavily overweight boy that hid himself away from Sherlock the moment he looked at him. A guard was watching over the three individuals like a hawk ,obviously making sure they devoured the correct portion of hot dogs and chips that was in front of them . Jim beamed a sweet smile though as soon as Sherlock clasped eyes upon him . Sherlock laughed to himself his throat jumping making squeaking noises as he ordered some cheesey fries .   
He stared around the area after he had his food with him , looking upon each table of strangers who he deduced as soon as he saw - Table one , schizophrenics and bipolar disorders , Table two eating disorders , Table three the depressed and last but not least Table four where only John sat . Sherlock walked slowly towards table four .   
John was busy organising his food making sure the individual portions didn't touch and that the meat and peas were on different plates . A coughing sound suddenly interrupted his manic thoughts ; he looked up. His crazy curly haired roommate was staring down upon him . " Um can i sit here ?" Sherlock asked meekly . John nodded almost happy for company for once . Sherlock smiled at him , casting his eyes down as blush filled his cheeks . John noticed the way Sherlock's cheeks turned as red as a tomato when he looked at him and instantly blurted " I don't like men if that's what Dr Hudson  told you " . Almost immediately he wanted to die (figuratively not literally) , why did he say that ? It wasn't completely the truth .... " No she didn't " Sherlock mumbled in return casting his eyes down to his meal . John continued to eat his separated meal . 

Sherlock began to tuck into his fries his oceans of eyes casting over to the small Irish boy that was stuck in his mind . He watched Jim's skeletal hands pick at the small portion of food in front of him , judging the meal as poison . Sherlock noticed Jim's bird like features turn in his direction and began to set his face into a smile . At that precise moment a tic seized ahold of him , slightly jolting his throat and throw his head to the side . A fountain of food splattered the table , in Johns direction . 

"What the fuck! That's disgusting !" John screamed jumping from his wooden chair . Panic was driving his mind , Sherlock had contaminated him . He had splattered a Petri dish full of bacteria all over him , he was like a walking grime fest . The guard that was surveying Jim , noticed the commotion and began to walk over . . .

"What is going on here ?!" The guard said angrily yet sympathetically at the two boys . Jim noticed the sudden  disappearance of  his watcher and shovelled his almost complete meal into the duffel that was ticket under his seat . Sherlock watched his little leprechaun do this action , judgement casting over his face . Meanwhile John screamed "He spat his food at me !" At the guard ; disgruntled and angry expressions upon his face . Sherlock stared  at the muscular guard's angled cheekbones , glaring down upon him . Ticks jumped out of nowhere , he slammed his fists into his chest like a gorilla , painfully leaving ravishing purple bruises . Swear words blasted out of him too , he felt like all eyes were on him . "Oh ok " the guard whispered noticing Sherlock's incapability , and walked away Angered flooded through Sherlock's core ; he felt like a child . He felt like Mycroft was beside him again . 

John stood up to storm from the room , an OCD whirlwind trampling his rationality . He ran to the door ready to exit but once again he was unable to do one simple task . He slammed the door once , hoping that gorgeous feeling of relief would flood through him , but no that wasn't enough . It was never enough! His angry exit was transformed into an OCD meltdown. He slammed the door twelve times , feeling the countless eyes all on him . But then he was out . The feeling of disgust and contamination still filled every inch of him . John ran as fast as a cheetah to the nearest bathroom ...

Sherlock sat there ; still slightly ticking a bit , watching the entire commotion and feeling entirely responsible. His condition could never give him a break ! His eyes swirled over towards Jim again who was smirking like he was holding in a laugh . The guard had returned to watch him finish the hotdog but the evidence was hidden . " Done!" Jim chirped showing the guard his falsely empty plate . The guard smiled a congratulatory smile and allowed Jim the luxury of exiting the dinner table ; bag in hand . 

Sherlock  consumed the cheesy chips placed in front of his slightly shaking hands and then followed his roommates actions . His stepped from the room , thankfully not ticking like a crazy person again (though he guessed that was what he was due to Mycroft's reactions to him ) . 

Instead of returning to his overly white clinical room , Sherlock began wandering around the centre , not really sure on where he was heading . Then he noticed a large oak tree towering over a bench like a giant over a boy . Then he saw that it overlooked a playground full of children behind the steel fenced prison which he was in . Sherlock perched on the bench just to calm his racetrack of a mind . His arms suddenly flung out and slapped his chest again . He hated that tic !   
Sherlock became lost within his own thoughts , thinking about what this place would do to him . He didn't want tests that would apparently cure him , like he wanted to be cured he just wasn't some fucking gerbil to be played around with .  
Suddenly he felt a presence behind him and a firm hand grabbed his shoulder ...

**Author's Note:**

> First attempt at a fanfiction about my favourite tv show and favourite movie ....


End file.
